


Till The Lights Go Out

by SHORTFRY



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28375488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHORTFRY/pseuds/SHORTFRY
Summary: "Miko, you believe yourself to be worthy of a second life?" She laughed, the lilt in her voice hollow as she replied, "I wasn't asking for life." Slanting upwards, dull blue eyes met his cold, cruel gaze. "Tell me, Sesshomaru, does Tenseiga not kill what's already dead?" [CU][SessKag]
Relationships: Higurashi Kagome/Sesshoumaru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	1. Walk of the Undying

**A/N: This will be a short story, told in 4 to 5 parts.**

**Chapter 1 – Walk of the Undying**

Despite the years that passed, the sight before him was unmistakeable. Once deemed deserving of notice, he never forgets a face, especially one of importance to key historical events. And at this moment from afar, there was no doubt that it was her.

Atop an overhanging cliff stood a single, lone figure. Raven hair danced unhindered in a drifting breeze, reflecting an azuline sheen in the waning daylight. Serene, relaxed features were upturned toward sunrays that sought refuge behind distant mountains. Dark, wispy lashes brushed against pale cheeks, hiding expressive eyes from view. 

He had almost bypassed the scene along his airborne route. The last time he had come across this woman was at the final battle with the spider hanyou. He had not even heard a whisper of her since, and to find her in the realm of his lands was unexpected. From past experiences, trouble had always followed her. Curious as to what business she had being here, he decided to investigate, changing course in flight.

Demonic speed brought his arrival near instantly to land a short distance from the open meadow. As soon as his boots touched the long blades of the willowing grass, the woman turned in his direction. He had not bothered masking his presence.

“It’s been a while, Lord Sesshomaru,” came her colloquial greeting, lids lifting to the sight of the regal daiyoukai. She knew it to be him before she even saw the whites of his kimono. His indisputable, powerful aura was recognizable anywhere. Ever omnipotent and always tinged with just a touch of malevolence. Others would have called it an _evil presence_. But she knew better.

“Miko,” he acknowledged, stepping forward to close the distance. The slight incline of his chin made him seem all the more aristocratic. It caused her to wonder if he could ever look any less. He was the epitome of youkai divinity. 

Nodding politely, she answered his address, sounding more formal than her usual greetings. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, My Lord?”

Sesshomaru did not immediately respond to her uncharacteristic deference. She had never addressed him in such a manner. He found it odd. And as he stood there, pausing to study the woman not but a few yards away, he noticed that something else about her was different. Something about her was…muted, somehow. He could still tell that this was the same miko his brother had travelled with, but just could not pinpoint what had been so strikingly different that he was actually pausing to ponder upon.

Physically she looked much the same, aside from the few changes associated with growing into adulthood and the passage of time. Her face had slimmed, shedding the rounded traits of youth to a more refined profile. Sandy ivory had given way to a much paler complexion, almost porcelain. She also seemed slightly taller, but that was harder to gauge as his height typically towered over many. Though her hair held the same unique curl not native to most humans in Japan, it was much longer now, cascading down to her lower back in messy waves.

Catching him staring, her lips tugged an amusing smile. “Still talkative as ever, I see.”

The proud lord had always been a man – no, _demon_ – of few words. So it should not have come as a surprise that he would not be much of a conversationalist. She figured he will say whatever was on his mind when ready. Besides, he was the one encroaching on her privacy. Whatever it was he wanted will eventually reveal itself.

Sighing, she turned back to watching the peaceful sunset, briefly searching around before lowering onto an area clear of rocks. Once seated, her chin rested upon bent knees as arms folded around slender legs. Maybe it was not the most dignified of positions to sit, she thought childishly. _Especially not in front of the Lord of the West._ But it was comfortable, and comfort was something she would cherish in whatever form it came in.

It was not long before soft footsteps sounded to the left as Sesshomaru sidled next to her. White and red-patterned silk billowed in the caressing wind. It grazed against the back of her exposed forearm from a gathered sleeve, allowing her to feel the exquisite softness of such luxurious textiles. It reminded her of satin sheets in a home out of reach. Though not as smooth nor as finely woven, satin had been – or will be – readily available and mass-produced, bridging the gap between the pauper and prince.

 _Of course his clothes would be the best this era had to offer. He’s practically a king!_ , she lightly mused.

It was nonsensical how being around this youkai royalty had never fazed her, thinking back to all those who had cowered at his haughty feet. Yet, she would be a blubbering mess around professors and other authoritative figures in the modern era whenever caught in their reprimanding glare.

As her thoughts wandered aimlessly, long moments of silence ghosted by, accentuated by the gentle whispering of leaves in the distant foliage. And just when it became so still that she questioned if he was even there at all, Sesshomaru finally spoke.

“Tell me what became of the Shikon no Tama.” A deep and firm timbre. She had almost forgotten what his baritone had sounded like. How long had it been now? Five years? Or was it six?

Either way, her brow quirked, thinking the answer was fairly obvious. Didn’t he know? She was sure he did. About to ask for clarification, her train of thought halted when remembering a small, tiny detail.

He had been there to help relinquish the lethal blow, but not when she had made the final wish.

 _Oh_.

“It’s gone now, disappeared for good,” she replied, “You don’t have to worry about another evil coming after it.”

“You presume much. I do not worry.”

Casting a sidelong glance to her reticent visitor, she knew it was not pretence. He had no need for such falsehoods.

_Of course not._

“Well, _I_ was worried. With all that happened with Naraku, it’s relieving to know there’s not another blood-crazed demon bent on destroying everything in its path for power.” Grimacing, she added, “At least, it won’t be because of that stupid jewel.”

Though Naraku was far from the greatest foe Sesshomaru had ever encountered, he had still been an annoying, recurring pest that had brought chaos throughout his lands. It had taken years to hunt down the elusive coward, and even more to correct the environmental and political damage left behind.

So he acceded to her assessment. It _was_ a bit of a relief, if not solely for the tediousness of preventative damage control. But that did not explain the _how_. 

“What had been done to be rid of it?” He wanted to be sure that it was, indeed, gone for good.

“A selfless wish was made. And it disappeared.”

The sullenness of her reply did not escape his observation. He had been expecting a different, opposite reaction for achieving such a task. Had she not fulfilled her duty as guardian of the jewel? She had never shied away from celebratory pride before, at least not from the handful of times he had seen – and heard – her obnoxious yet cheerful rallying at every scuffle.

Briefly, he wondered what that wish had been. He had heard of the fabled legend of the jewel’s creation, though it was never of particular interest to him. He did recall an instance of the old flea’s retelling of the tale, and possible ways for its destruction. It had been right after Inuyasha had been sealed to a tree by the jewel’s previous protector.

_Inuyasha._

Flashes of their last encounter replayed in his mind. And now it all made sense. He looked directly at the miko.

“You did not wish for the half-breed’s life.” It was a statement that required no confirmation. Inuyasha had not been brought back, that much he knew.

“No.” A soft sheen coated pools of blue. “It would have been a selfish wish if I did.”

The weight of that truth fell heavily around them. “Yes. It would have.”

Nothing else was said in the suddenly sombre atmosphere, both facing westwards now. Her gaze was back on the horizon where land met sky in vibrant washes of orange and pink. The sun dipped low behind the hills, casting long, trailing shadows across the valley like flowing ribbons. From the east, violets and indigoes meshed in a gradient overlay, staking their claim on the palette of the heavens. Soon, all would be dark, and a new stage will play in a twinkled sky.

Sesshomaru’s attention was focused elsewhere. He was not admiring colors of an everyday natural phenomenon. In his long life, any novelty will eventually fade, regardless of its magnificence. Instead, he was regarding the vastness of the domain under his protection. Land that was once ruled by a powerful inuyoukai general had since been passed on to the last of its bloodline.

She had her duty, and he had his.

“Why didn’t you save him?” The softly-spoken question pulled him from his thoughts, diverting attention to the miko at his side. She was still watching the setting sun.

“I was not compelled to,” he answered detachedly, leaving not a sliver of emotion passing through his stoic mask.

It was such a vacant response; lacking compassion, empathy. _Humanity_. She chided herself. Of course it lacked humanity – he wasn’t human, after all. Yet still, it bothered her. It bothered her to know how unbothered _he_ was. Had the topic been about anyone else, she could understand. But Inuyasha had been his brother. His family. How could he still be so –

Turning, she planted flat, accusing eyes upon him. “You saved Rin.”

He stared back at her, challenging with his piercing gaze. “Yes.”

“Then why not your brother?” Her voice was raised, but there was something missing in her fire.

Whatever it was did not matter. The question was one he had considered repeatedly; hating to admit that it had ever even remotely occupied his ruminations. 

_Why not?_

He was not positive of the answer, recalling how strange it had been that there was not a peep from their father’s fang, considering whom the request had been for. No hint of magic, it had stayed dormant. There were moments he wondered if it would have awoken if he willed it to. Had he willed it to on that fateful day? Had he been that bitter that even for his own kin, he did not have even the slightest inclination for his survival?

No, it would have not made a difference. The notion was quickly dismissed. The blade had always worked in mysterious ways.

She was still waiting when his gaze finally fell away in dismissal, and her shoulders slumped. It was pointless. There was not even a flicker of anything in that unyielding look he graced her with, proving just how even in death, there was nothing left. He was turning to leave when her next words caused his steps to pause. 

“Use your sword on me,” she said evenly, sounding almost like a demand.

Golden eyes slanted to her face, immediately perceptive of the longing look now aimed towards the inheritance tethered at his hip. After what she had been telling him, he wondered if his ears were being deceptive. Was the miko not supposed to be selfless? Was that not the sole purpose for her earned title? A requisite for her success in vanquishing a mystical, destructive bauble?

Perhaps, he reassessed, even the purest will eventually waver to power. To the closest thing humanity may achieve to immortality. It was a dangerous vanity. To extend nature by such artificial means. He had done it for Rin, yes, but that had been his choice and for a life not yet lived.

But to have the _audacity_ to demand such a favour from _him_? He nearly scoffed, disapproval at such a request easily reflecting in his mocking tone.

“Miko, you believe yourself to be _worthy_ of a second life?”

She laughed, the lilt in her voice hollow as she replied, “I wasn’t asking for life.” Slanting upwards, dull blue eyes met his cold, cruel gaze. “Tell me, Sesshomaru, does Tenseiga not kill what’s already dead?”

If what had been spoken surprised him, it did not show, his expression remaining impassive as ever. Only the slight flare of his nostrils indicated any reaction to her query, and it was only then, did he realize the truth of her words.

And _that_ was what had been different about this woman. What he had dismissed as possibly a cloaking spell was actually _absence_.

Absence of the decaying scent of mortality that shadowed every one of her species.

Absence of a muted thrum – a pulse that would otherwise indicate the presence of life.

And perhaps the most noticeable difference – of all their fleeting encounters – was the absence of the spark usually lining those determined irises. What had been a vivid flame had now withered to something dry, and like her voice, deceivingly hollow.

Yet despite all the proof he now had, she was different from his brother’s first undead miko. She did not smell of earth and clay. Her unique scent was dimmed, but it was still present with hints of spring blossom and citrus as it carried in the wind. Her body, from what he could tell, was real and original, not made of soil and dust. But then again, there were magic that even he knew not about.

Fully regarding her with renewed intrigue, Sesshomaru’s eyes narrowed upon her sitting form. “ _How._ ”

The miko flashed a tight smile, not at all amazed the question was masked as a command. She could already tell that today would not be the day he would acquiesce her request. At least, not until all his curiosities had been quelled. He was an inquisitive creature after all.

But she was not going to satisfy his musings today. He did not permit her request, so fair was fair. Aside from that, she was just too tired to elaborate on such details now.

Rising to her feet, she dusted off the crinkled pleats of her dark blue hakama. The color red had long since been abandoned from her wardrobe. There was no need to look like someone she was not. Taking a few steps, she stopped shoulder to shoulder by his side. Her neck craned to account for their height difference, eyes remaining locked on his questioning gaze.

“That’s a story for another day,” she said quietly, lingering on his unreadable expression. Smiling gently, she continued past him back into the woods, leaving a different lone figure to contemplate the enigma that is Kagome. 

-X-

Sesshomaru had not given much thought to their last encounter, but fleeting visions of the miko’s strange request had crossed his mind on rare occasion. With an unshakeable recollection such as his, it came as no surprise when he easily spotted her again a decade later, looking no different than the last. And once again the memory unknowingly crept like a misty fog. Whispers of an old conversation graced him with silent words in the backdrop of a tranquil sunset, leaving behind new mysteries just waiting to be solved.

Attention tuned up the dusty trail to the woman of his past within the present. Engaged in conflict, she was surrounded by three burly looking men each with weapons drawn.

White sleeves were ripped and stained with dirt. Royal blue bottoms had been slashed cleanly, revealing a pale leg beneath the open slit. Masses of midnight locks were wild and untamed, framing her concentrated face like a lion’s mane. It made her look fierce, and he was subtly pleased with the steadfastness of her warrior’s stance. A wakizashi was gripped defensively in her right hand, prepared to strike. 

Confidence leaked from the miko in potent waves, so when one of the men moved to attack, he was not surprised when she expertly dodged and landed a hit, drawing blood. But the scene quickly changed when the other two men converged and knocked her off balance. His eyes widened suddenly when a gleaming blade jutted through white and black, scraping against the sound of cracking bones. 

Crimson flashed instantly and within a split second, he had already leapt through the clearing, a rumbling growl reverberating in his wake.

Before Kagome could register the shocked gasps of her assailants, she felt a gush of wind and heard three distinct thuds. Then, an uncomfortable feeling was starting to spread from her midsection, up her ribs, and through her upper back. Expression shocked, she was staring down at the source of such infliction.

There, jabbed through the center of her stomach was a worn, double-edged blade.

Dusty blue eyes followed the metal length to the gruff hand upon the hilt, trailing up the sleeved forearm, past the armoured shoulder, and finally stopping at the space where the head was supposed to be. Red liquid still spewing, the body stood a moment before it wavered and fell, grip falling away from the embedded weapon.

Looking up further, her sight landed upon a familiar white-clad figure. Silver strands glistened in the evening dusk, just as glimmers reflected off the thin katana being sheathed back into its dark scabbard, already slicked free of blood. Scattered around him were the remaining masses of the other two severed heads and motionless bodies. 

Realizing what had just happened, she raised a brow at his rescue.

“You know I can’t die, right?” she asked, finding the concept of Sesshomaru as her _knight in shining armour_ quite amusing.

“Hn.” He approached, coming face to face with the miko. He was close enough that she could almost feel his breath upon the crown of her head. A curious look was fixed upon his bland expression, and she could have sworn there was a tinge of red lining amber irises. “So it would seem.”

Suddenly, a firm tug jolted her forward, almost causing her to crash into him. She was quick to hold her stance preventing such a stumble. Peering at his hand she saw the small sword of her attacker, realizing he has just pulled it out from her impalement before discarding it to the ground.

“Um…thanks?” she glanced back up sheepishly, taking note of the tightness in his jaw and the focus of honey gold eyes at the spot of intrusion. 

“You do not bleed,” he stated with mild inflection.

“Yeah, I found that weird the first time, too.” She shifted, moving to slide her own short blade back into the sash at her waist. This appeared to have snapped Sesshomaru away from his assessment as he took a step back, giving her space.

“Does this normally occur?” he asked with a casual motion to the fallen attackers.

Kagome eyed the bodies wryly. “Define _normally_.”

At his deadpan stare, she shrugged while trying to rearrange the folds of her clothes to their proper place. Half way through she gave up on the tattered remains and left it as best she could, glad her undergarments were still intact.

“Sometimes,” she finally answered while raking through her tangled hair, “it comes with the territory of travelling alone.”

He watched lithe fingers comb through fine, dark strands. Her actions were so natural while completely disregarding the many bloodless cuts littered across exposed skin. It seemed inhuman, almost demon-like. It was oddly mesmerizing.

“You do not fear the danger.”

“Have I ever?” Bending down, she grabbed the tail end of a tattered hem and ripped the thin strip the rest of the way. Rising again, hair was gathered away from her face, using the makeshift ribbon to tie a high ponytail. 

With her neck in clear view, he can confirm with more than just sound that there was, indeed, no pulse. “Perhaps before.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Dusting off her appearance, she looked down one end of the forest trail, and then the other. “Are we close to a river or hotspring?” She really wanted to wash off.

Sesshomaru listened carefully before inclining his head to the northbound trail, thigh-length silver strands swaying with the simple motion. “Yet now, you do not,” he continued.

“What’s there to fear?” came a light-hearted answer as she began walking at a sedate pace, completely disregarding the corpses that would surely become some animal’s feast. Once upon a time she may have cared enough to bury them. Once upon a time she had a heart.

“Pain.” He followed leisurely in step beside her. It was the same direction he had been heading anyway. And once again, he was in no hurry to the destination. “Or perhaps you do not fear that either.”

She was reminded of the uncomfortable feeling in her gut and chest from just moments ago, almost completely gone by now. “Can’t fear what I can’t feel.” 

“With your affinity to danger, that may be for the best.”

Was that…was that a joke? Angling to see his face, a sly smile reached her lips when she discovered the faintest of smirks. “You’re awfully chatty today.”

And…the smirk was gone.

“Oh no, don’t stop talking for my sake!” she backpedalled with a small chuckle.

Even back when they had been allies, it was rare getting a single word out of him. Aside from taunts and threats, there was not much else. He had always been mysterious and evasive, and she wondered if he was always so deep in thought or was thinking nothing at all. She had never pegged him to be a daydreamer. What could such a being be pondering all the time? What does one do to occupy their mind after living such a long, lasting life?

Sensing his rather pleasant mood, she was going to milk this opportunity as much as possible. Besides…it was getting harder to find someone to converse with lately, and she wasn’t going to waste a chance presented on a silver platter.

“So, what has the great Lord of the West been up to for the past ten years?”

“Politics.” A loaded answer.

“What a bore.” She made a face.

“Please, enlighten me with your worldly adventures,” he responded almost ludically.

“Touché.”

At the blander than usual façade returned to her, she realized his confusion at the terminology. “Sorry, that was French. I’ve just been going around villages to help the sick and injured. It’s sort of what I do best, I guess.”

“How long?”

“How long what?” She kicked a small rock along the road, recalling a game her little brother used to play when she would walk him home from school. 

“Since you have been travelling,” he elaborated. He normally did not repeat questions, but for some reason he was feeling quite magnanimous. Chalk it up to boredom and restlessness.

Kagome was having trouble keeping her wonderment contained, positive that this was probably the most he had ever spoken with her.

Looking upwards to the clouds, she recounted in memory. “Pretty much the whole time.”

“Since our last encounter?”

“Since Naraku.”

They fell into a companionable silence after that. The sky was darkening, emphasizing the quiet stillness as critters hid for the night. Even Sesshomaru’s footsteps were as stealthy as a feline’s, making hers sound like a galloping horse with the slippers she wore. She wondered if he would maim her for comparing him to a cat.

Peeking through thick lashes, she stole a glance at the demon she had not seen in what seemed like forever. Faced ahead, it gave her a perfect view of his side profile. Magenta stripes still lined high cheekbones, stark and contrasting to such alabaster skin. Nose a perfect slope that drew sharp, sculpted angles. Lips held firmly closed – but not in a frown. She thought about his smirk from earlier, and wondered how a true smile would tug those lips. Not the _I-am-going-to-enjoy-killing-you_ smile, but a truly happy smile.

“It is rude to stare.”

Embarrassed at being caught, she quickly looked away, eyes glueing to the road ahead. “Sorry.”

It was now his turn to study the miko. Though he could practically feel her discomfiture, her too-pale skin was missing the tinge of pink that would normally show.

_There is no blood to rush her cheeks._

That awareness brought on a theory he wanted confirmed since first informed of her missing mortality.

“Was it the wish that caused your current state?”

She hesitated, fingers twisting the fabric of her sleeves before nodding in the affirmative.

“Explain.”

“You’re really going to dig this out of me, aren’t you?” she groused. Turning to see his reaction, she sighed heavily upon the seriousness of his curiosity. Stubborn youkai. She wanted to wash off the dirt and grime, and had a feeling that if she refused to answer, then he would refuse to lead her to water. Debating whether or not to tell him, she finally decided there was no harm in sharing. Taking a deep breath, she found the starting point.

“After we defeated Naraku, the jewel left behind was fully corrupt. It was the darkest I have ever seen it, almost pitch black.”

Sesshomaru reflected back on that eventful day. It had taken the combined power of Bakusaiga and her reiki-infused arrow to disintegrate and fully be rid of that despicable hanyou. All that remained was the completed Shikon, as melanic as she had just described.

“I couldn’t purify it. I had tried so hard to. But I couldn’t get over all that it had taken from me.”

He had seen her reach for the bauble on the worn battlefield, but had left shortly when the scent of tears salted the air. Her companions were all gone, and he had no interest in observing her grief.

“I didn’t have the strength to even touch it without crying. I was so angry. For weeks, I could barely look at it. And when I finally tried to face it, Kaede had found me in a trance, just holding and staring into the jewel. When she shook me from that spell, hours had passed. All I remembered was being someplace dark. A voice had been speaking to me.”

By now, her words were barely above a whisper, but he could still clearly hear everything. When it seemed like she was not going to continue, he patiently urged.

“It was the jewel speaking with you.”

“It was,” she confirmed. “I had considered so many wishes that would be rid of it. But each one had its drawback. It told me as such, and I knew it was telling the truth. In the end, I finally came to terms that there was no perfect wish. That’s the one thing gramps didn’t mention in the legend. Is that a selfless wish needed a sacrifice.”

And honestly, she _had_ run through every possible scenario.

She could not wish her friends back. That would have been selfish, because what of others that had lost their lives in the quest for the jewel? She couldn’t wish for everyone back, because malicious beings had also perished along the quest, and bringing them back could spell more trouble and undo all the evil that had been dispelled. She couldn’t wish to bring back just the good-hearted folks, because who was she, or the jewel, to judge who is ultimately ‘good’? Shouldn’t everyone get an equal second chance at redemption? In this world, many had done the bidding of evil out of necessity. Kill or be killed. And what if those souls had already made peace? She couldn’t rip them away from that peace just to be brought back to a life unwanted. Would they even want to be alive after that? Or would they return like one of Urasue’s victims? Like Kikyo?

She didn’t dare to wish for an undo or redo, to before Naraku had come to power. She, of all people, knew not to mess with the time-space continuum. It wasn’t until finally coming upon a solution, that the jewel hit her with that one, little catch. In a roundabout way, it did make sense. Could something truly be selfless without sacrifice?

Sesshomaru pondered on her last statement, combing through each tale to recall if there had been any mention of such and coming up empty.

“I have not heard of this requirement for a sacrifice.”

She gave a mirthless chuckle. “It said I had to make a trade in order for it to disappear. One existence for another.”

By now, he had a hunch of what had been exchanged. But he wanted confirmation. “The trade caused this,” he stated.

“It took my life, but left my soul. I still don’t know how, or why, or exactly what transpired. All I knew when opening my eyes was that the jewel was gone, and so was my heartbeat.” _Along with the passage home to my family…._

It would seem there had been a high price to pay after all.

Sorrow clung to her like a wet cloak, yet he scented no tears. With everything that had just been relayed, she was surprisingly stable after recounting such admission. He had expected crying, or cracks in her voice. At first he had attributed it to her resolute strength; that perhaps she had grown past those turbulent emotions throughout the years. But now, maybe it had been an effect of the wish. She said she no longer felt fear or pain. Perhaps more had been taken.

“Yet you are still here,” he offered.

“But for what purpose?” She swiped her sleeves across her eyes, but he knew them to be dry.

“What purpose would you need?” he asked honestly. Humans. He never could understand their abstract necessities.

Kagome shook her head dejectedly. “You don’t get it. I’m not alive. I’m a shell of myself. I can’t feel.” Wiping angrily at her eyes again, she added, “I can’t even goddamn cry!”

At her rising voice, he scoffed at her delusion. “You are feeling emotions now, are you not?”

After a pregnant pause, her reply came in an oddly calm manner. “I feel flashes of emotions. But it’s never lasting. Just like now. One moment I’m angry, the next…nothing.”

“You no longer have to linger in grief, sadness, or pain. Tell me, are those not emotions humans strive to avoid?” He did not understand her fret. To him, feelings were a hindrance. It had taken decades to master full control of his, yet it came to her as simply a by-product of the wish.

“I can’t feel love.”

So _that_ was the reason for her misgivings.

“You do not require love.” He said it so matter-of-factly.

Scoffing, she had expected such a response from the likes of him. “How can someone not require love? How can someone go through life not experiencing something so great?”

“ _I_ do not need love. And yet I have endured centuries.”

“Yeah,” she grumbled, “You’ve endured. I want to live.”

“You can live without.”

“Says the one with a heart of ice.” She sighed. It was useless trying to persuade since he had probably never known true joy from such a powerful emotion. “It’s different having experienced it and then to have it taken away, to be completely numb to all of it. I don’t want to go on like this. Maybe we can try Tensei –”

“Cease this,” he suddenly growled, halting them both in the middle of the road. The direction of her ramblings was not something he wanted to entertain. He had only ever killed with purpose, to those deserving, or for entertainment. And taking whatever life she had left was without purpose, and would not be entertaining. The miko, he had long decided, was not deserving of such a death. He would not be coerced to committing those actions, even though he was unsure if Tenseiga could actually kill her, seeing as she was not a being of the underworld in the traditional sense.

His tone remained sharp and unrelenting. “You will not make such a request again.” 

Speechless to find two intense pools of swirling amber piercing her still, she could only nod under such scrutiny. Never had she witnessed such a reaction from him. It had always been hidden behind an emotionless mask, that to actually see such intensity up close was…something else.

But it didn’t last. Just like her flashes of emotion, in the blink of an eye it was gone. Expressionless mask once again in place, he turned and continued striding along the path.

Kagome eventually caught up with the demon lord, and the rest of the trek was encroached in silence. It wasn’t much longer before they finally came upon the sound of trickling water, and after leading her to the riverbed, Sesshomaru promptly left without another word, not even a single glance.

-X-


	2. Drawn First Blood

**Chapter 2 – Drawn First Blood**

The summoned meeting was turning out to be a complete and utter waste of time. It was nothing more than a show of face to satisfy the delicate lattice of truce, and not for the bored inu’s satisfaction, either. The tortuous missive had practically _begged_ for his attendance. And for what? To settle a petty trade dispute at the fault of the South?

Inwardly, he groused, the temptation to simply slice off their heads a welcomed treat. He should have denied them mercy for their pitfalls and demanded their surrender. Yet for propriety’s sake, he was now sitting through a lengthy proposal at the Southern Capitol, words echoing monotonously in the meeting chamber, lingering meaninglessly like a foul stench. 

“…as you see, joint control on the Takamatsu ports would be optimal for our mutual benefits,” concluded the elaborate oration of the Southern Lord. With the way the rough, thick furs stood like pins along his husky frame, anyone could conclude that the bear was a more than a touch anxious. His gestures had been overly exemplified, and the easy avoidance of eye contact to one very unimpressed lord was an easy giveaway.

“The East concurs with Lord Tadeka’s solution…” The panther demon was casting a yellow-eyed glance towards the silent inuyoukai as he spoke. “...should it also be acceptable to Lord Sesshomaru.”

Their attempt to sway his decision was terribly transparent, and the Lord of the East was especially keen. Such were the tactics of the cat. There had been suspicions of ulterior backing, and now he had confirmations that the East was in dalliance with the South for this specific trade route. And for this proposal to work, it would need the approval of the West lest it break any long-standing treaties and incite a war, like it almost did just days prior.

Yet, this was taking up too much time. Lord Sesshomaru absolutely did _not_ have to be present for what could have been easily accomplished in a letter. And so, as payback for having to sit through such tedious discussions, he purposefully drawn out silences of thoughtful consideration before finally giving an answer.

“The West accepts,” he intoned with formality, “On one condition.”

The bear was raptly heeding, hanging with trepidation upon each and every word, feeling the weight of Sesshomaru’s heavy gaze.

“The West will collect a twenty percent tariff on all trades through this passage. _No exceptions_.”

Upon hearing the judgement, relief emanated off of Lord Tadeka instantly, shoulders relaxing as though a great burden had been lifted. He had been fearfully expecting the Western Lord to fully reject the proposal. Negotiations with such an overbearing, powerful being had always been taxing on his rattled nerves. He was evermore thankful that majority of past negotiations had been conducted during his sire’s reign, and thus had avoided the responsibility of going toe to toe with the House of the West until only recently. Those dogs were always chillingly brutal in court dealings.

“Agreed, Lord Sesshomaru. The South accepts your condition,” Lord Tedeka replied gratuitously with a slight bow; low enough to express reverence, but not too low to shun his station. He was still the head of a Cardinal Royal House, after all. 

The panther grinned delightfully. Though the deal was between the West and the South, derivative benefits will flow to the East without capital buy-in. Though they would still have to pitch in towards the tax, it was still a lesser price to pay than establishing a new trade route through the aforementioned ports. 

“Splendid!” leered the feline eagerly, “Let us quickly sign to officiate the new treaty.”

Several servants appeared with bowls of heated wax, ink pots and quills. After a final read-over, three parchments of the new agreement were sealed and sanctified with each of their House’s insignia.

After the signing ceremony, the low tables that all had been seated at were quickly cleared away as sak _é_ was then brought out for a celebratory drink. The concoction was finely formulated and extremely potent to have any effect for youkai enjoyment. And for such an occasion, their host had procured one of the more expensive options, its aroma sharp and pervasive. 

“One more thing to complete our transaction…” Lord Tadeka began after the first round had been toasted and downed. As they waited – unexcitedly – for the announcement, the bear snapped pawed fingers for two of his guards. They disappeared and reappeared moments later bringing out a small structure, wheeling it to stop closest to the Lord of the West.

Arching a brow, Sesshomaru hoped it was not more bottles of wine. His own cup had barely been touched, not one to indulge in anything that would dull his senses, especially when away on business.

He scoffed at the tradition. _For propriety’s sake._

Eyeing the structure, it appeared to be a square, wooden cart. No larger than five feet wide on all sides, it sat upon a set of wooden wheels. The entire thing was covered in a sheet of forest green and dark gold tapestry, hiding its mysterious content from view.

Lord Tadeka beamed at the Western Lord’s intrigue. A masking spell had been purposely leveraged to keep this a surprise, considering the sensitivity of the canine’s refined senses. He continued the prelude, boasted by a stream of liquid confidence.

“Lord Sesshomaru, as our gracious and honoured guest, the South offers a parting gift. Please accept this token of appreciation for our new partnership.” With a swift tug of the sheets, the contents of the cart were revealed for all to see.

Golden eyes almost bled red as claws immediately flexed beneath trailing sleeves. It had been a long time since he had to put effort into controlling his monosyllabic tone, straining as teeth ground tightly to prevent an erupting snarl.

“ _What_ is the meaning of this?” he queried evenly, eyes not leaving the revealed _gift_.

Lord Takeda allowed his General to take the floor to proudly present his find, completely misinterpreting the terse reaction for withheld anticipation.

“My Lord, this is a fine specimen, one of a kind!” the General began with honoured excitement, walking around the unveiled cage of gilded, metal bars. “You see, at first it _seems_ mortal. But watch!”

With a flick of a wrist, the hidden dagger that had been in the General’s hand sliced cleanly the skin on the creature’s exposed arm, eliciting a drowsy groan. “It does not bleed, yet still lives. A durable, mess-free pet for your – ”

The words died in his throat when a single, suffocating wave of youki unleashed into the room, filling all corners, snapping all attention to the source where a silent, unmoving lord sat.

A solitary, pernicious glare to the General had him frozen to the spot, still completely ignorant of his slight. It was taking a great deal of control to not impale said General and strangle him with his innards to choke out a slow, agonizing death.

“L-Lord Sesshomaru, please accept our humble apology if this gift offends you!” Lord Tadeka was practically quivering in panic once discerning the Daiyoukai was, in fact, _not_ pleased. The blast of overpowering aura of such oppressive potency was an unmistakeable sign of immense ire. No one would dare to be on the receiving end of such attention.

Quickly motioning for the guards, he yelled a hurried order. “Get this out of our sights, now!”

“ _No_.” 

The two guards, along with the General and Lord Tadeka, paused all movements at the guttural command, cautiously alert. The panther lord, on the other hand, was less apprehensive, finding the reaction oh so fascinating.

Sesshomaru narrowed his gaze around the room, not oblivious to the watchfulness of that sly feline. Irked at letting his aura slip so unexpectedly, he carefully willed his claws to relax, glad for the covering of his long sleeves to have kept the reaction unseen. These fools did not need to know of his connection to the so-called _gift_. Once again donning an air of cool indifference, he unfolded from his seat.

“This One accepts your bestowment,” Sesshomaru began, tone not revealing any indication of interest or displeasure as he stepped towards the exit. Stopping with a turn of his torso, he indicated to the cage, adding, “Have your guards prepare this for my departure. Other matters of importance require my immediate attention.” Turning, he abruptly left.

Not wanting to test the Daiyoukai’s patience further nor question his sudden leave, the bear ushered his guards to make preparations as the room cleared out. The cage was hastily wheel to the main gates and fitted to the reins of a waiting demonic steed.

Shortly after, Lord Tadeka was in the open courtyard as Sesshomaru appeared by the gates. Once again, he was attempting to apologize for any perceived slight and worrying for future alliances with such a powerful house. However, such grovelling fell on deaf ears as Sesshomaru barely acknowledged the sentiment. Gathering youki beneath his feet without further preamble, he began his ascent, the complimentary flying stallion following closely behind.

Once far enough away from the Southern Capitol and any prying witnesses, Sesshomaru found a secluded section of the forest to land. It was still at least a two days’ journey back to the Western fortress. He did not feel the need to wait that long to check on the welfare of the possession in his charge. It was not far from the truth the reason for his sudden departure.

Approaching the structure, he freed the demon horse as it quickly took off, presumably back to the South now that its task was deemed complete. The door of the metal structure was ripped off its hinges with little effort, and Sesshomaru paused at the sight before him.

Two years had passed. This was not how he would have envisioned their paths crossing once again.

Reaching in, he brushed away raven strands from an ivory face. Sooty lashes blinked in languid successions, unfocused and hazed. She had been clearly drugged, though not fully unconscious.

With the same care once held with his ward, he mindfully lifted the malleable woman from the entrapment and settled down against the trunk of a nearby magnolia. Positioning her within his arms, he could sense her fighting the paralysis. Heavy eyes struggled to open, mouth opening and closing as though trying to speak. She was likely not aware of what had happened, nor whom she was in the presence of now.

“Miko, you are safe.”

“Sessh…maru” She was struggling to wake fully, and though still incoherent, at least she recognized him. For some reason, that simple acknowledgement eased a part of his mind that had been unknowingly unrested.

“Yes,” she heard vaguely, surprised at the softness of his answering tone, “Now rest.”

Relaxing across his lap upon the familiarity, the side of her cheek lolled against a solid, armour-plated chest, finding comfort in the nearby plushness of a velvety pelt. Absently, he brought the long, white fluff around her lithe frame, securing it closer to the skin exposed by the indecently short yukata. It was the same green and gold as the sheeted covering; the colours of the Southern Lord.

A scowl pulled at his tapered mouth then, lips pressing into a thinning line. The thought of that pitiful bear redressing the miko was stirring a foreign temper.

He pulled back at the sudden unfamiliar reaction, silently questioning why he would be so riled. He was aware of the fury that had been steadily brewing since first landing sight upon her at that gaudy estate, lying helplessly like a stunned deer begging for rescue. Some level of vexation had been expected, but he was clueless as to why it had flamed into a boil that challenged temperamental control.

Looking to her ageless features, he considered the woman now resting undisturbed upon his person, realizing that no other had been allowed such a privilege. Non aside from the child that had been under his care many years ago. But unlike his ward, this woman here – his dead brother’s former companion – was not his responsibility. Yet he still held her close.

Silver brows furrowed in contemplation. _Why the miko?_

They had once been allies, and though they had not remained in contact, one could admit that she was still considered an affiliate.

But she was not pack.

She was not his to protect.

Yet still, she was strong, always displaying ardent loyalty to those deserving of her trust. Unconditionally.

Even after all that had been endured, she had still persisted. Survived.

And through all these years, here she was, crossing his path again. Re-emergence.

Something about this strange, peculiar miko had admittedly drawn him to her. Ever since his eyes had first landed upon the brazen girl within his father’s tomb, she had not been able to escape his notice upon meeting.

It must have been pure coincidence. 

Internally sighing, Sesshomaru forced any encroaching inference to the back of his mind. It was something he refused to dwell on, finding it purposeless. He had simply saved her because of their protracted association, nothing more. 

While readjusting his pelt, motions paused when his hand accidentally brushed against bareness of her thigh. It was only then did he comprehend just how cold she actually was. Bringing fingers to her cheeks, he lightly felt the same cold skin. This frigidity was not due to the lack of proper attire.

There was just no warmth coming from her. At all.

_The Miko feels like death._

But even cold, even though she held no warmth, her body was still enduring. Repairing – as he watched, enraptured – the cuts on her skin, slowly stitching itself shut, not so different from his own demonic healing. She was not alive, yet she was.

“How…find me…” she murmured, each fanning breath ruffling the gossamer fur near her dainty nose. 

He studied her face, finding lash-tipped lids lazily closing against the heavy chains of sleep. “I was at the Southern Capitol settling a trade dispute. You were presented as a parting gift, most likely in attempt to win my favour.” The last part was said with a bite of displeasure.

“Mhmm…..so…politics?” she drawled, and already he could feel her drifting into a proper slumber.

“Hn,” The corners of his lips curled ever so slightly. “Politics.”

-X-

“And once they figured out I was different, that’s when they decided I was more useful as a _rare find_ than a bland meal.” Kagome paused, tapping a finger along her chin before shrugging indifferently to the thought of being eaten. “I guess it was just dumb luck that I was _your_ gift as opposed to someone else’s.”

Sesshomaru had been listening attentively as the miko recounted events leading up to and after her capture. Questions had been probed to understand why it was her they had chosen, but it seemed to have been a fluke that she’d ended up in such a predicament. Situations of ill circumstance flocked to her like crows on a carcass. And this was no different.

To his mollification, it had not been purposeful plotting by the other lords as initially suspected. Not that it would have mattered – slaughter would have come to all those involved in any attempt at usurpation. But then the South, or the East, would have likely destabilized, and he had no interest in dealing with additional governing duties amidst the ensuing chaos of war. It was one of the reasons he had left in a cordial standing, deciding to gather facts from the miko before taking actions. And if it had been subterfuge, he would rather they foolishly believed him ignorant of their plots. That would have made it easier to uncover the depths of their divisiveness before launching a strike. Either way, such had not been the case, so he dismissed the notion as another thought presented. 

“They were youkai. Were there reasons you did not use your powers against them?”

“I would if I still had them.” Taking another sip of the warm tea clasped in her hands, she continued. “My reiki was mostly gone after the wish. I can still feel a bit of it when I really concentrate, but it’s barely there. It’s like a dried up well.” Honestly, the irony was not lost on her.

That revelation surprised him. If her spiritual powers were gone, how had she survived this long by herself, in a land roaming with youkai? It was obvious now that she could not be killed, but that did not mean she was immune to other methods for subjugation.

Such as being kidnapped and drugged.

In a way, she was still very human.

An imperceptible scowl iced his lower jaw just then, though no one would have noticed such subtle change.

“You are without protection,” she heard him say, and could have sworn there was a hint of accusation in that drying tone.

“On the bright side, I have a different kind of super power,” she said cheekily, peeking up from her cup through dark lashes.

He did not seem amused. Stubborn dogs. Instead, he stood from the low table, barking a firm command while turning to leave. “Come.”

Not wanting to be left behind and getting lost in the many corridors of the Western Citadel, she quickly followed, abandoning the unfinished oolong. “Where are we going?”

“You need to be skilled with a weapon,” was the curt reply. His strides were much longer, already many paces ahead as they started down the stretching halls.

Kagome had awoken that morning in an unfamiliar room. At first, she had thought it to be one of the dwellings in a passing village. But it was only after sitting up and feeling the soft, silk-covered mattress, did the events of the previous days came rolling back. It had not taken much effort to guess whose residence she had woken up in, by way of the elegantly decorated interior and the richness of the sheets beneath her fingertips. The warm, honey-coloured eyes that flashed through a muggy memory had also been a dead giveaway. It was then undoubtedly confirmed when a servant had come knocking, letting her know of their lord’s request for her presence. After being guided down multiple twists and turns of the grand interior, past intricately decorated shojis of gold and blue and red, she had been led to the Western Lord’s private study where they had met for tea. After sitting for what seemed like hours of questioning like a suspect on trial, the retelling of her capture finally culminated to this very moment where she was falling steps behind. 

Shaking off the mental recap, her pace quickened. “I am though. I know how to use a sword.”

At this, he _did_ turn to meet her eyes, though his were narrowed in doubt and the pace did not slow. “Yes, I have seen how you flounder with that _thing_.”

She huffed, more out of a need for rebuttal than actual ire. “So what, you’re going to teach me then?”

“We shall see if you are able to learn.”

“How…encouraging,” she answered with arms crossed, though her legs kept moving to not lag behind.

“You do not need encouragement. You need discipline.” His gaze was upfront again, and all she saw was the back of his head and the sway of his grey, dressed-down silks.

As they made their way through the main building, Kagome inwardly sighed in a shadow of contentment. It felt nice, the convivial banter. It had been odd to her at first, but she later realized the stoic demon actually had a sense of humour. Well, to others it may seem like nothing more than sharp-tongued insults. But in the few encounters they’ve shared, she had enjoyed – no matter how fleetingly – the way his words and logic lured her into debating with him. In some roundabout back-and-forth argument that really wasn’t an argument at all. It was all so very different from the yelling matches sparred with a late dog-eared hanyou. And it was nothing like the simple pleasantries of polite-but-strained small-talk with passing acquaintances and village folks. 

She sighed wistfully, knowing that this brief bit of contentment would never last. It would always evaporate mere seconds or minutes later, leaving her dull and empty once again as bleakness filled the void. And no matter how often she would chase it, it would always leave her like a cheating spouse.

 _Always_. 

“Keep up, Miko.”

Kagome’s attention snapped up front, registering the fact that she had drifted off in introspection again. They were outside now, having exited the main compound and turning down a walkway toward another building not too far off. A few more yards and they were entering in what appeared to be a very, very spacious dojo.

Kagome’s eyes went wide, drinking in the sight like a thirsty child.

The floors were lined with beige tatami mats, filling the entire expanse from side to side. Mounted along the northern wall were rows upon rows of weaponry, all neatly displayed. The majority of the collection was comprised of various swords of all sizes – some even the length of her height – while the rest were a mix of short-range options. She had often wondered how someone like Sesshomaru trained, if ever, or if such trainings merely consisted of killing whatever got in his way. But seeing the dojo in the flesh was mildly shocking. It was so familiar – so alike to how humans would train in a similar setting, with similar weapons. But then again, was it really that surprising? It was common knowledge in her time that certain martial arts stemmed from the samurais, but perhaps its origination went far beyond written history. Perhaps, it was an art form humans had learned from youkai, like Prometheus stealing the flame from Zeus.

“Select a suitable weapon,” he ordered after leading them to face the armoury.

“Any weapon?” Her voice came out an octave higher than usual, clearly in awe of everything around.

He _almost_ wanted to roll his eyes at seeing her sight linger on the shurikens. “Something practical,” he stated flatly.

Nodding absently, her eyes trailed along the vast arrangement toward the selection of shorter, more wieldable blades. Carefully touching the few closest, her hand finally stopped upon a mid-sized katana. Picking it up gently from its resting place, she held it up to the light for inspection, smiling as she looked up to let Sesshomaru know she was ready.

He seemed to agree with her choice, and motioned for her to follow to the center of the room after removing their shoes by the edge of the flooring. She did not see him pick a sword of his own, but then noticed the familiar white-sheathed blade by his side. Obviously, he’d already have the best pick of all. What point was there in training with an inferior weapon?

When they came to a stop, he turned to face her. She stood a few paces away, arms hanging limply by her sides, the plain katana loosely gripped in one hand. Her pale face was upturned towards him, eyes the colour of frosty slate staring with a speck of determination. It was so reminiscent of days gone by, of earlier years when a fiercer version of that determination would barrel down enemies opposing the miko before him. But this was not the same. This was but a sliver of the emotions she once worn on odd, slim-fitted sleeves. He had alluded to her that such sentiments were of no benefit; that he prided on his own unwavering masking of such. Yet now, seeing those faded, lustreless orbs stare back, he finally understood an inkling of what had been lost.

She blinked then, winking away the echo of a shared past as he noticed her watching expectantly, as though waiting for his next instruction.

Slowly, Sesshomaru withdrew Bakusaiga without imbuing any of his demonic energy, leaving it seemingly powerless like any old blade. “Demonstrate what you know. Attack.”

Kagome faltered, looking confused at his fairly relaxed but readied stance. “What?”

He frowned impatiently. “To determine where improvement is required, you will display your current skill level.”

“Yeah but,” she started hesitantly, “I don’t want to hurt you.” Attacking those trying to do harm was one thing, but she was never comfortable with attacking her friends or people she cared about.

At this, he fixed her with a stony glare, one that clearly conveyed ‘ _You cannot hurt this Sesshomaru even if you tried, human.’_

She blew fallen bangs from her eyes in mild annoyance at the obvious implication, before a blank expression befell her face. “Fine.”

Kagome had learned a few things from the two decades of traipsing across Japan. Not completely useless, a skill had been picked up here or there, including how to wield a sword, albeit not expertly. Though, she had to admit that she never did try as hard as she should have, considering the _unable-to-die_ thing. What would have even been the point? Seventy percent effort had been good enough. The other thirty percent had not been needed to avoid injuries as, well, she had none. And there were other ways to spend her time than constant training.

But now, she was about to spar with a master swordsman. And not just any swordsman – _The_ Killing Perfection himself.

This was not going to end well.

Legs spreading shoulder-width apart, she positioned in her usual stance, thankful for the airy hakama that had been left out for her to change into. The clingy yukata she had awoken in was surely _not_ appropriate, let alone comfortable. It was a good thing Sesshomaru had spare clothes for her to wear. Glancing down to the more decent attire, she briefly wondered if he had the outfits planned in advanced, knowing they would end up here at the dojo. Either way, a thread of gratitude bloomed at his consideration, foresight or not.

“Attack,” he instructed, sounding a tad more impatient than before.

Obeying his command, Kagome launched ahead, the unfamiliar sword an easy grip in her dominant hand. She aimed and swung with an overhand cut, muscles bunching beneath outstretched arms.

But he parried effortlessly in feather-light steps, his long, silver mane swishing by in a flutter to caress her cheeks as they both turned.

Spinning on the balls of her bare feet, she spotted his changed positioned, yet looking as though he had not moved at all. Targeting a spot for the next move, she jutted forth, her strike once again meeting thin air as it sliced through ghosts.

She was not landing any hits. Not even close.

The miko encroached while the demon dodged, never making an offensive move as he allowed her to circle him. Sesshomaru was evading, uncharacteristically slow, yet still proficiently out of reach. She noticed he was not as fast as she had usually seen him, and knew he was toning down speed to match her own. But despite the withholding of his obvious superior abilities, over and over again, her attacks had yet to land.

“Miko, these attempts are pitiful,” he suddenly mocked, causing her to still as they locked eyes from opposite ends. She was panting, but no sweat slicked her pallid skin. “Attack with effort. Do not hold back.”

He could tell she was not giving her full force by how she was pulling back at each strike, diminishing any forward momentum. It was obvious to his trained senses. If she had truly thought he could be injured in this sparring, she was foolish for entertaining such notions. So a bit of goading was needed, and he knew it had worked the instant her posture hardened, her next strike swinging closer than all previous attempts, only missing by inches.

“Alright,” she smiled with subtle glee at the improvement, pivoting in recovery before preparing to charge once more, “You’re asking for it.”

She attacked again, but this time with renewed vigour, brows knotting in concentration. And this time, Sesshomaru lifted his sword to meet her blade, steel clanging upon steel for the first time that day.

The sound only spurred her on, excitement budding at the feel of finally hitting something other than the shadow of his dodges. It seemed like this was what he had been waiting for, and she could see something flash across his façade that it truly was.

Pushing off, she swung her wrist in a practiced twirl, bringing down the blade in a natural arc as bare feet danced in rapid movements. Sleeves and hair flitted as they evaded each other’s offense, repositioning and ducking as their defense.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she saw an opening, and her arm thrusted forward.

“Gotcha,” Kagome preened, victorious eyes staring challengingly into his. The edge of a blade upon his throat gleamed in the orange rays of the afternoon sun like a blinding beacon, its reflection a warm streak across the miko’s upper cheeks. “Still think I _flounder_?”

Sesshomaru smirked, golden eyes darting downwards, unfazed by the barely-there sting at his neck. “Think again, Miko.”

Triumph draining, Kagome looked down to see his blade pointed directly at the center of her chest, the metal tip dipping into the folds of her clothing.

But she wasn’t going to let him win. This was not over.

Grin stretching mischievously, her gaze slid back towards his arrogance. She was sure to watch every changing detail as swirling honey irises widened when she suddenly pushed forward with a soft, withheld grunt.

She was sure to relish in the darkening of gold to amber as the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bones met both their ears.

She memorized the feel of his breath fluttering across her face, their distance having shortened upon her single step.

And she would never forget the rare flash of surprise as he stared with disbelief at where Bakusaiga was now pressed flushed against the valley of her chest, impaled fully to the hilt.

“Just because I’m a human pincushion, doesn’t mean you win.”

His eyes shot back up to meet her pride, a very distinct, metallic scent reaching his nose as he felt a trickle of liquid trailing down his neck, dipping beneath a pristine collar.

“ _Checkmate_.”

-X-

Sakura blooms fell in the gentle spring breeze, littering the little grassland with a blush pink blanket. Petals drifted into the adjacent pond, long defrosted from the passing winter and flourishing with various koi and carp. Marble benches and pebbled walkways added the finishing touches to the beautiful tableau. However, that’s not what had snagged the attention of two very ponderous, golden eyes. 

A demon lord sat casually against a wooden pillar of his chamber’s veranda, looking out into the undisturbed garden. Clawed fingers ran languidly through lengthy strands of snowy white as an audible sigh escaped. He was undoubtedly perplexed. Flummoxed at his recently unexplainable and uncharacteristic behaviour.

Gazing beyond the lone sakura tree, attention trained on the guestroom across the glade, focus pinned on its single, infuriating occupant. The miko was currently napping, having tired out from their morning spar. Yet even out of sight, she had still invaded his mind for the umpteenth time since they had arrived at his estate two days ago.

Snippets of their past encounters replayed when mind was idle, such as now when there was nothing else needing his immediate attention. He had delayed delving into his own behaviour around the woman, but all that avoidance was now resurfacing, forcing assessment into the reasons behind inexplicable actions and reactions.

Sesshomaru knew his view of the miko had change drastically since first meeting her. She had been a brash, untrained, uncouth, untalented, unworthy, and annoying blip in his life. She had been tethered to a pack of misfits, hopelessly reliant on those around for basic survival, and always in his way when it came to familial matters.

But over time, she had become less untrained and admittedly more talented. She was just as uncouth, but perhaps more reserved, and still just as annoying. Yet she had displayed a rare strength and even rarer loyalty. He had long ago deemed her worthy of his respect.

But when had he deemed her also worthy of his protection?

This, he was having trouble figuring out.

He supposed that being allies had initiated that sentiment. But it had stemmed past their wayward truce. Years beyond, even. The miko had been conveniently out of sight and out of mind, and he had the penchant to believe that they would never meet again after achieving their shared goal. And that had been his stable assumption, up until finding her again on that sunset afternoon. He had foolishly thought his passing curiosity of the woman had, well, _passed_. 

_Apparently not._

She was supposed to be a meaningless impression. Like wondering if it would rain next week, or if winter would come early this season. Regardless, the miko was not something that he had believed would occupy his mind often, or at all.

And he certainly had not expected to have felt the urge to come to her aid and rescue.

But he had.

And now he was, unsuccessfully, trying to understand why.

The breeze shifted, bringing in cooler air that tasted damp. A storm was soon to come. He could already feel the charge of the atmosphere. It was reminiscent of another charge he had felt, from that first morning in which he had tested the miko’s skills.

She had said that her spiritual powers were mostly gone, but when she pushed against his Bakugsaiga, he had felt the dormant magic spiking along the blade like titters of static. It had been subtle, but it was there. And it had sparked a tinge of exhilaration within him, bestowing colours to a muted world. It had been a very, very long time since he had last felt her powers. If Sesshomaru was being honest with himself, he would dare say that the feeling of such raw purity was quite missed. After all these years, not another being had been witnessed to harbour as much spiritual power as the miko once had.

And her swordsmanship had definitely improved, as demonstrated by the drawing of his blood. A claw traced the spot where the cut had been upon the juncture of his throat, long since healed. He had been impressed by her boldness, and the duplicitous tactic employed to gain leverage for a win. Not many had been able to make the Daiyoukai bleed and live to tell the tale. 

But then again, it was not like he could actually kill her anyway.

-X-

A/N: Not the end yet, more chapters to come!

Shuriken = ninja stars / throwing stars


End file.
